From 'Sock Pants' to Napkins

Years and years ago in a act typical of a self-sacrificing mom; my mother gave me her sewing machine.  Her brand new machine.  She it earned from an incentive program at work and I somehow convinced her to let me have it.  Now before you think I'm a terrible daughter, let me clarify that this was her second machine, the first still sits in the guest room in fine working order having clocked-in endless hours on Halloween costumes and 'sock pants.' 

Sock pants?
Are what Mom called her invention of sewing crew socks to the ankles of pants.  It gets cold in Northern California, and in an effort to keep her toddler son warm, Mom would layer up sock pants beneath a another pair of pants.  Imagine this poor sprout in preschool around nap time when the teacher asked everyone to "Please take off their shoes and socks." 

I've yet to make a pair of sock pants but I have made many of my own projects and inventions.  Recently, I revisited my very first project: cloth napkins.  It makes my heart sings to see that I have learned.  Learned that ironing actually does save time, that corner can be tidy, and that moms really are the best. 

How-to Sew Cloth Napkins

Cut some cotton fabric into squares (remember to take in account for the hem.) Mine were on the small size and measured 15" x 15" before sewing, the finished napkin was just shy of 14" but feel free to make them any size you like.

With the wrong side of the fabric up,  eyeball a 3/8" hem folding and pressing all around the perimeter.

Next fold the hem over one more time pressing the corners well.

Next trim the corners to remove some of the bulk material do this by unfolding the pressed corners and drawing a line through the intersection of the second hem line.

Cut on the line

Fold and press the cut end.

Refold the hemsforming a neat corner.  Here's the first fold

and the second

Ta-da!
Ok, so repeat for all the other corners. And press , press, press, this will make sewing a breeze.  Then run a straight stitch along the hem and you're done.

How I Learned to Make (Chow) Fun

As I've mentioned in past posts Montana is an indescribably beautiful place. That being said, finding Asian provisions, even provisions that go just beyond meat and potatoes, can be a challenge. The fact that the local Super Walmart has one of the better international aisles among our grocery stores, essentially describes my plight. Back to fun.

fun. Chow fun?
Chow describes the cooking method of high-temperature wok stir-frying. Fun is a type of wide, freshly-made rice noodle that has a texture that is both soft and slightly chewy. The smoky, carmelized flavors produced by this means of cooking is called in Chinese wok hai which among the Cantonese in particular (i.e. my poppa) is the arbiter of good eats.

Ordinarily you buy fresh fun at the Asian grocer and chow it at home, but because there are no fun retailers in Missoula, I began what would become an elusive search for a homemade recipe. The Internet didn't provide any reliable leads so I went to the public library where I found several dated cookbooks with noodle recipes but none explaining noodle making. I then remembered a Southeast Asian cookbook that I had checked-out a few months back entitled Hot Sour Salty Sweet, written by the husband and wife team Jeffery Alford and Naomi Duguid, that included a recipe for rice noodle sheets. The book itself is composed of anecdotal accounts and lovely photographs illustrating recipes that feel lived and entirely unpretentious. Predictably, and much to my chagrin, the book was posted as 'available' but missing from the shelf. Argh! Two days later after placing a request, the book came into my possession and here's what ensued:

Rice Noodle Sheets
from Hot Sour Salty Sweet by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid
1 C. rice flour I found these flours in the bulk department of my natural food store.
1/2 C. tapioca flour
1/2 C. corn starch
2 1/4 C. water
lots of vegetable oil

Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl and whisk in water. Let the thin batter rest 30 min to 2 hrs before cooking. Heat a small skillet on med-low heat. Add a small amount of oil and wipe with a paper towel leaving the barest amount of oil. Pour 1/4 C. of batter into hot pan, swirling to coat. Quickly cover the pan with a lid and cook 1-2 min until edges pull away from the sides of the pan and the surface of the noodle is no longer sticky. Transfer the noodle sheet to a well oiled plate, coating both sides with oil. Continue cooking sheets, stacking them atop one another and oiling liberally between additions. When the sheets have cooled, cut the stack into strips. Separate the strips forming the noodles.

Chow Fun
one batch of rice fresh rice noodles
1/3 lb. skirt steak, sliced marinated in soy sauce, minced garlic, sherry, black pepper
1/2 C. onion, coarsely sliced
1 1/2 C. bok choy, chopped in 1" sections
1 C. bean sprouts
2 green onions, cut in 2" lengths

2 T. fermented black beans, rinse with water to remove excess salt and mash
3 T. soy sauce, I had regular soy sauce on hand but dark is preferable
2 t. sherry
1/2 t. sugar

Heat wok on high, coat with 1 T. oil and heat until smoking add onions and bok choy. Stir the vegetables, cooking them quickly and remove once they obtain some carmelization. Cook the meat next, searing both sides and set aside. Rinse out the wok, reheat and coat with oil. When the oil begins smoking add the fresh noodles. Resist the urge to stir and break the noodles. Allow the noodles to sear turning them minimally. When toasted, return the vegetables and beef to the noodles and toss with sauce ingredients (soy, sherry, sugar, black beans). Finally, add bean sprouts and green onions. Serve with chili oil or Sriacha.

If you'd asked me two years ago about what I hoped to learn or discover from Montana, I might have listed rugged things like fishing, mountains, horses...I don't think I would've ever guessed that in addition to those things, I'd be initiated into realm closer to home; one of homemade fun.

You've Got It All Wrong

Last Christmas I made this.

Outside snow was falling to the tune of Vince Guaraldi's Charlie Brown's Christmas and I sat nested in brown paper, masking tape and glue.
Hours later I hatched my deer.


But last weekend I learned that I got it all wrong.

First, a little background.
After living in Missoula for nearly two years now (relocating from Providence, RI) I've come to realize wildlife mounts are everywhere. They watch, glassy-eyed from barroom walls; en masse like simulated herds in sporting good stores,; in truck stops from vantages next to coolers of cheap beer; from within plastic vitrines at the post office; and atop fireplace mantles. Equally ubiquitous, taxidermy shops are spotted like wildlife themselves along roadsides, rooftops emblazoned with white hand-painted letters advertising the trade.

Montana after all, represents the remaining frontier and with it a way of life that embodies self-reliance and self-sufficiency. Here, for example, cast iron pans are well-seasoned, canning jars are sold in flats, and people bake pies from scratch. Gathering from the land begins in late spring as the mountains thaw and the previous year's burn sites are scoured for precious morels. Berries follow in summer and families return to coveted huckleberry patches with the hopes of collecting enough berries for a pie. Raspberries grow wild and take over yards. Bitter chokecherries come in late summer and are harvested, juiced, and sweetened to make wine. Often the first year's snow marks the end of autumn and the beginning of hunting season.

Curious to learn more about hunting after helping a neighbor butcher his kill, I registered for a free hunter's education course offered by the state's Fish Wildlife and Parks — a requirement for kids aged thirteen and up interested in obtaining a hunting license. The class was informative and gave me an opportunity to poll several hunters who attended the class with their spawn. I asked for their primary reasons for hunting and most listed these in the following order 1) to provide meat for their families 2) for sport 3) tradition. My informal poll also revealed to me my ignorance of hunting as a cultural tradition and that most hunters understand that hunting is a privilege and not a right.

Keeping taxidermists in business, some hunters have their best examples mounted as trophies, the distant cousins of the marble based, chromed plastic 'Honorable Mentions' of my suburban childhood. My 8 year-old mind tells me this act of preservation is weird, creepy, morbid and totally cool. My art school mind says stuffing a dead animal sans body and making it appear life-like is rad; so ironic. Hence, my Christmas papier mache foray: I figured what better way to tap into my machismo hunter self than to use paper and paste. My minds aside, what I find so refreshing (and here's where I go wrong) is that Montanans appreciate wildlife mounts without a shred of irony. Hunters are proud of their s/kills, appreciate their beauty, and display them by attempting to deny decay.
Huh.


See, totally wrong.
It's funny, just when you think you know something you realize that you don't know it at all.

(Next post: this fellow's home, Elkhorn Hot Springs)

Before DIY There Were Grandpas

Last week at work I found a stack of cheap National Guard mouse pads in box stuck with a hastily written Post-it note, free. Free a benign four-lettered word that has coaxed me on numerous occasions to drag all sorts of oddities home. Lots of broken things, almost great things, old things, things that were evidence of a hasty retreat, things/artifacts of a life gone, things that were replaced—I bring them home like strays. I find a lot of satisfaction in rehabilitating/repurposing inanimate things. Strange? Perhaps. Here's what I made:

Separated the civilian soldiers from the foam bottom and cut out a bull template. Affixed the cut-out bull to a cardboard block.



Cut out and carved "TACOS" from a foam meat tray (the kind your chicken breasts come in) and hot glued them to a cardboard block.

Rolled ink onto the blocks and printed invitations on scraped manilla folders.

My scavenging compulsion makes me think of my grandpas. Two fellows born of another generation where everyday engineers were common and people made things out of necessity rather than novelty. My Pop's pop, Yea-yea as we called him was a wonder. His house was littered with the fruits of his practical repurposing. A 5-gallon oil tin cut at an acute angle, attached to a sanded stick, Voila a dustpan. Frayed electrical wire? No problem. Patch the area with a sliced bit of rubber tubing and hold in place with tightly wound string. He apparently had no use for electrical tape. My Mum's pop, was equally resourceful. A man with a racing mind and active hands he was always hatching new projects. Varied projects included sewing custom tailored sofa slip-covers, tweaking recipes for homemade noodles, and constructing a deck. A man nearing eightly, helped to design and construct a split-level deck wielding a circular saw as if it were an extension of his arm. The belief was that it was better to build it yourself and cheaper. Frugality was central to my grandpas' philosophies. Labor was free. Material never wasted. Scraps and bits were squirreled away saved like potential pagent queens waiting to be crowned favorable for re/purpose. I like to think that my grandpoppas' resourceful philiosphies live on in my curious peeks and that they''d approve of my mouse pad rescue; or at least have a good laugh.

The Mysteries of Kombucha Revealed

Kombucha, what the hell is it you say?
Boocha, as we affectionately call it, is an effervescent beverage made from a culturing process that involves a kombucha colony, sugar, and tea. I've read that it has its origins in China and was consumed for its believed digestive benefits and all-around goodness. As a self-confessed addict (and at $3.25 a fix) I was in desperate need for a DIY hack. A few moments spent in front of a glowing monitor and the Internet spilled her information-filled guts — revealing a relatively simple process. All that was required was a mother colony, a batch of sweet tea, and a little patience. For around twenty bucks, there are several sites on the web from which one can purchase a culture also known as a mushroom, SCOBY (Symbiotic Culture of Bacteria and Yeast, yum) or mother. Hmm.... Twenty bucks felt steep for my tight pursestrings...to my delight, a friend shared it was possible to circumvent the initiation fee and grow my own culture using a bottle of the store-bought stuff. Again I consulted the wise Internet and sure enough, I uncovered a couple of recipes and even a video.
So where to begin? Growing your mother...

The Gear:
1 bottle of plain kombucha (I used the ubiquitous G.T.'s)
6 t. loose leaf black tea (Assam, Keemun, Darjeeling are some personal favorites)
1 C. sugar
1 gallon of filtered water
1 non-reactive container i.e. glass or plastic, I use a gallon-size glass cookie jar
a piece of cotton cloth large enough to cover the mouth of the jar, I use a clean dinner napkin
1 rubber band

Begin by brewing your tea. Place your tea (I use loose leaf but you may substitute an equal number of tea bags as long as the tea is black) in 2 large glasses and top off with boiling water. Allow the strong tea to brew until the tea comes to room temperature. In your gallon-size, non-reactive container measure 1 cup of sugar and add the strained, room-temperature tea. Stir the tea and sugar together until the sugar is dissolved. Fill the container nearly to the top with filtered water and add the bottle of kombucha; stir well. Place the piece of cloth over the mouth of the container and hold it in place with a rubber band. Now take your entire rig and place it in an undisturbed area, sheltered from direct sunlight. You are looking for a colony to form on the surface of the brew. It will take the form of a milky floating film. The rate of film formation is directly dependent on the ambient room temperature, so expect a longer brew time for colder seasons. I started mine in the spring and it took four weeks for a 1/4" momma to grow. Check on your colony nursery every couple of days, making sure the film is covered with tea and that no mold forms. Mold is bad. If molds sprouts, get rid of your batch and start over. Once you've grown a vital, robust colony, reserve 2 cups of the brew along with the mother. Discard the remaining sacrificial broth. Now you're ready to make kombucha.

The List: the brew is the same as above
1 C. sugar
6 t. tea to 1 gallon of water
kombucha colony
non-reactive container
cotton cloth rubber band
ginger, fresh a 1" x 2" piece (optional)

Whip up a batch of the same sweet tea as directed above and add the 2 C. of the reserved brewed tea and the momma. Make sure the colony is submerged, then cover the vat with the cotton cloth and secure with a rubber band. Brew time will again depend on the time of year and temperature. In the summer, brew times will be shorter (7-12 days) rather than 12-16 days in the winter. Give your brew a taste — if it's too sweet give it a couple more days; too tart — shorten the time for the next batch. Every time I start a new batch, I write the date on a piece of tape and affix it to the exterior of the jar so I have an idea of how much time has passed.

Bottling
6 pint bottles or containers with tight fitting lids. I save G.T. kombucha bottles for bottling — you can use whatever you like as long as the seal is secure and tight.

This recipe yields 6 pints of kombucha. Using a 2 C. measuring glass reserve two cups of brew, along with the mother colony, in a separate bowl. Decant the remaining brew into clean bottles. I usually fill the bottles to the top of the G.T. label followed by the ginger juice. If you're making plain kombucha, fill the bottles to an half inch of the top and cap tightly. For a ginger version (my personal favorite) grate fresh ginger, skin and all, and add 1 cup of boiling water. Once the water has cooled to room temperature, strain the grated ginger. After filling the six bottles to the level of the label there should be approximately 1 cup of brew remaining. To this remaining cup add your ginger juice and distribute this mixture equally among the six bottles of brew. Cap the bottles tightly and place in an undisturbed location at room temperature for 1-2 days. This resting time develops the effervescence — which you can test by uncapping a bottle and listening for the telltale fizz. At this point you can put the bottles in the fridge which will stop the fermentation process. Enjoy at your leisure.

One of the beauties of this process is that it's perpetual — you always have a batch of brew in the works — but as with all good things it also requires a bit of vigilance. Imagine yourself as teenage babysitter, for that's about how much work is involved and remember — mold is bad. With every batch the momma will thicken, forming a new layer often called the baby. This baby or new layer is capable of breeding its own batch of brew — hence the mail-order-boocha brides at twenty dollars a pop. Give one away free-puppy-style, or do as I do and keep the boocha family together in one incestuous flotilla.